'it was the beginning of the end' if they could see her now, what would the handful of AO3 users that had commented on her fanfics think with as cheesy an opener as that?
[He hears the creaks while he's out looking for the blanket. For a moment, it gives him pause. Did they draw the dead? Or merely rouse the ones in the higher floors. Either way, it makes him uneasy.
He also hears her relief when she's back. It tugs a smile up on the remainder of his face.]
If you were... a ghost... this would be... easier... but a lot more... sad...
[He draps the sheet over her shoulders and it drapes down far enough. Good.]
Just want to... have a barrier... when I scoop you up... Ready...?
[Even though it makes her feel ridiculous and like a child that fell asleep on the couch rather than a grown woman that's been doing a lot of running and lugging heavy things around and is now paying the price.
...She has...no idea how to be picked up... Just gonna...awkwardly make herself available to that?]
U-um, how do I... I mean, what -- um. [???? It feels like there should be a way to make this easier on him? And really, she's doubting again that this should be happening. She's tired and sore, yes. Of course! But is it too much? Is he just being nice, or maybe feeling like he has to make it up to her?] You -- you don't. Have to.
[Her faltering is... really cute. It does highlight the fact that this gesture is all rather silly. If he could, he might go a little red. But, while he could tell her to just walk herself back to bed, that feels needless mean and not nearly as fun for her.]
I know...
[He leans down and scoops her up, one arm under her legs, the other at her back. He smiles sheepishly at her.]
But this... is good...
[He readjusts his grip to be sure he's got a solid hold, then he turns from the cart toward the direction of the stairs.]
[If he says so... Even with his sheepishness, he's clearly more sure about the decision than her, so Ryder will bend to his confidence, though it means suppressing a little squeak of surprise as she's actually picked up. No more mentally giving him shit for being a twig, when he can not only shoot a bow and arrow, deliver her a sack of books like apocalypse Santa, and carry her like she's a princess. He's surprisingly sturdy! Still, she finds herself fumbling for something to cling to as if afraid that he'll drop her.]
Sorry...about cutting -- your fun short. If -- I were a ghost, I would have haunted -- the shit out of that cart. Given you the best ride.
[The magic of zombie-ism. Or perhaps he's just always been a bit of a wanderer and all his strength from that is somehow stored in the wirey build. Whatever the cause, he is, in fact, quite sturdy.
A good thing too or he might've had some trouble with her making him laugh.]
I would have been... grateful... for the Ryder ride... but I still... had fun...
[R-Ryder...ride... Somehow tacking her name onto it dials up the suggestiveness in her brain. Thank god she hadn't settled on this name in high school already. She can just hear the sarcastic chorus of "Ryder? I hardly know her!" mocking her. Anyway, she's grateful for the sheet, because maybe it will be a barrier not only for zombie infection, but for the way her temperature is a tad higher now.]
[She makes a funny face and he tilts his head at her, curious and amused. But, ultimately, she is spared from embarrassment. There is something important at hand.]
I thought I head... movement... around... Did you...? I'm thinking of... going to look...
[Oh. That is indeed something more important. Ryder still feels awkward about it, but not nearly as badly.]
Yeah... I guess I got -- pretty, um...loud. Sorry.
[She doesn't want him to leave her behind, but she recognizes that in comparison to him, tireless and able to move through hordes with ease, she's useless. She'd only make things worse, and she might have caused the problem to begin with. He'll be safer without her this time, now that there isn't a living human element in play.]
I -- think it was all from the -- upper floors. I don't know. It's hard to tell...
[ehhhhhm... Ryder can't help but to pull a face, even if she rests her temple against him with a relenting sigh. Fine... But only mostly because that smile of his, while it should be kind of spooky, is just making her flush and she wants to smother those embarrassing feelings.]
Don't be dumb. We checked stuff -- out when we came here, just... The world kept going, too. Not just -- us, even if. Feels like it, sometimes. So, um... We can't always check -- every time. Over n' over. We'll go crazy.
[He is inherently dumb and Ryder's just going to have to deal with that. He huffs a little, but doesn't argue. She's got her own sulk going, which is kind of cute with the pink tinge.]
Suppose... Though... might be late... for crazy.
[He carries her up the stairs, not liking that the sounds get closer, but nevertheless heading for that room. Once there, she'll be set upon the bed.]
[For all she knows, she's made Teo up as a defense mechanism against her loneliness. It would definitely explain some things, like what a dead guy's doing going around all hot and sweet. Mentally grumbling at herself, she jolts a little when Teo starts lowering her, clinging again like a cat avoiding water like she realizes that no, he is not dropping her. Jeez. Calm down. Like that's even the worst that could be happening...]
[It's tempting. He promised to stay and take care of her today -- it'd be easy to remind him, to keep him there so they can talk and laugh and live. He says they could be close. She's got the sheet, so even if they haven't cleaned his clothes yet, he could hold her like he had the night before. It makes her heart flutter hopefully a moment before she lets go of the idea and feels it plummet to the lower rungs of ribs. If she wants to talk, laugh, and -- oh jesus fucking christ, she's pining for a fucking LIVE LAUGH LOVE wall decal or tattoo or some shit.
That's the final push she needs to make her decision, releasing what lingering hold she'd had on him to instead bundle the sheet tighter around herself. Ryder sighs and lets the fatigue settle deeper.]
Nnno. You should check -- on them... Um. Maybe get them ready... I -- don't know if we should lead them -- out unless we can keep -- them out. Or, um... Find way to be safe and let them go free.
[Every Witch Way is supposed to be a safe place to rest for everyone. It'd be nice if the other undead could learn to take Teo's example, but they didn't have the awareness for that. They were basically infants, and like hell she's ready to be a parent -- especially to a gang of toddlers out to chew her legs off. She doubts Teo is either.]
Maybe tonight? The other -- survivors shouldn't be out then either. And we can work on -- barricading in the morning?
[He waits, perfectly unaware of the horrifying revelations Ryder is having within the confines of her mind, a curse, it seems, that not even the apocalypse can scour from the land. Though she seems reluctant, she lets him go.
Checking on the dead, letting them go free. He hadn't expected it from her. It wasn't exactly safe for her. But he realizes that it's from looking at him that she's trying out ill-advised kindness for the dead. His expression softens, looking touched, fond, and grateful.]
I'll gather... below... Find a room... on the first floor... Get them all... together... You rest...
[Minding the other survivors is smart too. Safer for them and safer for him.]
Tonight... lead into the city... you be... ready in case...
[In case any decide to trail back up to her hideout while he away. He'd be leaving her alone again, which he doesn't like, but despite bundling her up and carrying her up the stairs, he knows she's capable.]
[He doesn't know how lucky he is, and she has no intention of telling him. Spare him this stressed suburban mom bullshit.
Ryder nods, switching to looking around their room instead of him, since all that would do is make her fret more by the second. Well, that and fluster the heck out of her, with that soft expression of his. Gosh and golly. She should make a new mental list of essentials, taking their new bounty into account. Shame that the wheels and rattle of its contents means that taking the whole cart with them isn't all that feasible.]
Yeah. I'll, um. I'll be quiet. [So they don't get distracted while he's parading them around... Ah, hm, she's not sure she likes the question that occurs to her, though she's pretty sure that's for the wrong reasons.] They're -- not gonna, um, like...smell me, or anything -- else, right?
[Not that she doesn't smell great by apocalypse standards, now! But it's weird to think about Teo, among the others, tracking her scent in an undead way. Experience stealthing around would tell her 'no', but she might be the only survivor that can get as definite an answer that there is, with him around.]
It's just when he's prepared to let that be that and head out that she throws a curve ball. And that metaphorical curve ball is landing square in the middle of his face. He makes an uncertain noise, grimacing and looking away.]
Well... I mean... you're clean and... you're not bleeding... You'd be... behind the door... Not really... the best sense... or anything... I'm sure it's... fine...!
[He smiles, but, it looks far more like a wince. Sure, he can't promise, but how likely is it?]
It'll be... fine... quiet... that's all... just quiet... and it's safe...
[Bleeding... Never before has Ryder been so grateful to not have a uterus, because she simultaneously doesn't know if she could handle asking Teo about menstrual blood without wanting to die and doesn't think she could hold her curiosity in -- further evidenced by the fact that the thought is still circling around her head after she's tried swatting it down like a pesky fly.
Just quiet! Being quiet is the only thing she has to worry about!]
Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I'll -- shut up now. Just need my, um --
[She leans to get a better look at where she's left her backpack, and more importantly, her book. Her hands make a gesture of a cover opening up.]
[Just a small assurance. He's good with her talking when he isn't walking the dead past her door. He hopes he can avoid her door, on that note.
He needs no more muted explanation. He moves to grab her backpack and brings the whole thing to her.]
Weave good stories... while I'm away...
[He makes his way to the door and shuts it quietly behind him. Then he's off to find the dead, to take their hands one by one and guide them down like they're no more than lost souls.]
[She's not sure she's ever going to get used to that... The someone not minding -- sometimes even looking forward to -- when she talks. Maybe he'll get tired of it after enough time, because it's the deprivation that made him like it in the first place. For now, it was okay. Ryder gives a small smile in return, murmuring something like a goodbye and good luck as she carefully extracts her book. Luckily she hadn't dumped the rest out, so in the event that she does have to make a hasty retreat, even if her selection isn't ideal, she won't be completely up shit creek. The odds of having to do anything more than maybe lock herself even further away in the bathroom were pretty low, thanks to Teo.
Stories, hm... Her expression softens to something serene and fond as she leans back against the headboard and flips open to a random blank page. Time to see what her imagination has to offer them.]
[He seeks out the dead. He has to take up that key do it, for some are still locked away in room. He finds a man alone, already lulled back into staring at nothing. That goes easy enough and he leads him down into what look a multi-purpose room. Time for it to have a purpose again.
He finds a woman in the hall. It unsettles him that she'd wandered even this close, but like the man, he leads her down.
The one after that is entirely unrecognizable as anything but it corpse and that unsettles him in another way, but he takes that hand too. He finds a family where two of the three corpses have already gone still, the sort of scene he really hates. He whispers that he's sorry as he goes.
He checks and he checks until he's sure he's gathered just about all of them. There's one last room, barricaded from the outside. He works to carefully move each piece of furniture. He hears growls, then scraping. He imagines those fingers are worn down to the bone and he remembers quite sharply, the feeling of clawing at a door. It's a wonder his fingers aren't the same.
He should've been minding that memory, or similar memories much more, for then he wouldn't have been surprised when the dead leapt at him, jaws snapping. He lets out a cry, pushing the dead back, and it stops. It almost confused, as if it has the mind to wonder how something that's not food could've freed it. This one's going to be trouble, he thinks. He takes the extra steps to bind its hands and try and cover its mouth as well. Just in case. Down to the room it goes and then all those dead are barricaded in together. It won't hold forever, but it'll hold until tonight, so long as they're quiet.
With that done, he makes his way back up to Ryder's room.]
It's me...
[He hopes she hears his warning before he opens up the door.]
['This is the story of a man named Teo, who was real and remembered, even if he couldn't remember himself well and didn't have enough for a biography.'
It's the one rule she has for her most prized possession and she's breaking it. For him. Maybe it's starting to lose seat on its long-held throne. That's the power of friendship, baby.
'He has a letter I've never read. A letter I've never seen. It was with him when he woke up, and even though it's been ruined with blood and time, he keeps it safe with him. Inside his pocket is a link to the life he had before all this.
Oh. By the way, this is taking place at the end of the world -- not the location, because the world is spherical so that doesn't exist, and I hope there's enough written word and intelligent life that this fact survives, but I can't predict the future. Humanity's let me down before. Now they're all dead: in the ground, on the ground, walking, or inside. I was like that, too, until I met one of these walking dead guys who felt the name Teo was right, so that's who he is. Funny that a zombie's the best guy I've ever known, and the only friend I've ever had.
I didn't know him before, so I don't have a lot to share yet. There might never be more, since he says flashes of memories come to him in little pieces and feelings. What I do know is that he's generous and compassionate. He's shown me that much, along with silly little doodles I've taped to the inside cover of this book.
Other things I know: - He's a Latino man in his twenties. He keeps himself covered up so others can't see he's undead. His left cheek is ripped off so you can see his teeth, so it would be pretty hard to argue against any accusation. - His eyes are dull and sensitive to light, so he wears goggles. - His hair is long. It was probably black or one of those darkest browns, but it's gone more gray. - His entire self is like someone dialed down the saturation level. His personality is still vibrant, even if he has to wheeze pieces of it out slowly, bit by bit, with lungs that don't work right anymore. As little as I've seen so far, I can make the judgment that his body is undeniably dead. - He can cook. He made me vegetarian sloppy joe today, or at least the apocalypse version. - He likes animals. They're not so fond of him now, what with the whole zombie thing. - He dresses like a punk. I don't know enough about the style or music to explain the patches that are sewn onto his clothes, but maybe he can tell me something. Stay tuned, reader. - He likes romance novels. Pretty sure he's bisexual. - On a related note, he mentioned cooking breakfast for partners after spending the night with them, but in various places. He remembers the electric buzzing sound that certain lights make. - He remembers probably sleeping in cars, like I sometimes do now for safety, but back when he was alive. - He's been shot before. His blood now is black. Zombies are able to mostly ignore pain because they always have a more prominent focus. For the rest, it's just hunger. He has hunger and the whims of his heart.'
Ryder pauses and listens with a frown. Even without the sound of people or television, lights or air conditioning...it was hard to make out all the noises. Damn walls, protecting her. Was that something, or her imagination? Was it him?
...After a straight minute of straining to hear something that would pierce the calm, she returns to her secret notes.
'- He cares about me. He'll hold me even though he's scared of infecting me. If I get infected, I probably won't be the same as him. He wouldn't be able to hold me anymore. He doesn't want to lose me. - I care about him. I don't want to lose him. - This isn't enough. I want to know more.'
She adds their story so far, omitting a lot of the details. There's so many parts scribbled out from a misspelling or plain embarrassment. As much as she wants a record of his existence for the world -- his importance as a person and not a medical marvel or hiccup of fate -- she doesn't...want to share him. She only just got him.
The hallway has a muffled thump to it of steps approaching, so she quickly stashes her pen away and snaps her book shut.]
Hey. All clear over here with me and Chancellor -- [Ah. Teo enters her view and her voice falters shamefully.] -- Bounce. Um. You? I -- thought I might have heard...
[The things he would say if he knew she was writing of him. What he'd feel if he knew she was writing for him...
He doesn't know. He jokes knows the sound of her voice, of rustling movement, and the way she falters when he comes into view. He's glad to know her well enough that he doesn't attribute it to his own presence-- at least in the sense of being unwanted. It makes him look apologetic, at least up until she turns a question on him.
It's his turn to falter. He wants to say he's fine, but if she heard something... He lets out a rueful breath of a laugh and ducks his head.]
Last one... spooked me... [Which seems ridiculous since he's also undead, but--] Expected something... living... pounced... Fine of course... but...
[He pushes back a bit of hair and then goes to take a seat on the edge of the bed. He shrugs.]
[It takes her a second to register that the one "expecting something living" was the proverbial other guy, not Teo. When she's letting that and the fact that he got hurt again settle, he says something else to distract her and she's left staring. Did he...somehow know? There was no way he could know she was writing about what she knows of him so far, that would be -- impossible. She flicks her eyes to her fingertips and assures that they're free of ink to further assure herself of this before exhaling and crawling over to him. It's his turn to get the sheet wrapped around him, starting like a hood but wrapping around his torso as her arms guide it. Ryder takes up the spot behind him, letting a leg fall on either end and resting her forehead against him. Gosh. It's like some kind of drug, instantly stirring up that good dopamine everyone was low on these days.]
[In fairness, he wasn't that hurt. He'd managed to block what he needed to. That old leather jacket was good for more than just looking cool and keeping his letter safe.
She gives him a strange look and it makes his head tilt. Perhaps he shouldn't have said that. Maybe that's too morbid, breaking some rule or other he hadn't noticed. But then she's at his side, leaning on him and he leans just the slightest bit back, resting his head on hers. He feels some of his tension unwind for a second before that question. It makes his breath catch, but his words are calm.]
No... that was later... [He should be grateful for that. And yet.] It's not clear... it's... probably not different... than anyone's story... I remember... patches... something caught... my ankle... tried to bite... grazed... but I got away... just to be caught... too scared... too scared...
[And fear led to carelessness and carelessness... well.]
...fell on me... tried to grasp... to claw... [He reaches up, his fingers grazing his throat, where the gaiter covers most of the scratches.] tried to bite... stupid... blocked with... my arm...
[His eyes close. He sighs. There's not much more he needs to say there. He was bit. It was over.]
Found some... shed... can't recall... bleeding everywhere... hurt... I-I wished... I wasn't alone... wished... I'd lived... wasted chance... Fever was fast... It was all... too fast... too much...
[So much for being her hero. He'd gone out cowardly.]
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storywalks) wrote2021-11-17 08:42 pm
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He also hears her relief when she's back. It tugs a smile up on the remainder of his face.]
If you were... a ghost... this would be... easier... but a lot more... sad...
[He draps the sheet over her shoulders and it drapes down far enough. Good.]
Just want to... have a barrier... when I scoop you up... Ready...?
[Here goes...]
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Ready...
[Even though it makes her feel ridiculous and like a child that fell asleep on the couch rather than a grown woman that's been doing a lot of running and lugging heavy things around and is now paying the price.
...She has...no idea how to be picked up... Just gonna...awkwardly make herself available to that?]
U-um, how do I... I mean, what -- um. [???? It feels like there should be a way to make this easier on him? And really, she's doubting again that this should be happening. She's tired and sore, yes. Of course! But is it too much? Is he just being nice, or maybe feeling like he has to make it up to her?] You -- you don't. Have to.
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I know...
[He leans down and scoops her up, one arm under her legs, the other at her back. He smiles sheepishly at her.]
But this... is good...
[He readjusts his grip to be sure he's got a solid hold, then he turns from the cart toward the direction of the stairs.]
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Sorry...about cutting -- your fun short. If -- I were a ghost, I would have haunted -- the shit out of that cart. Given you the best ride.
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A good thing too or he might've had some trouble with her making him laugh.]
I would have been... grateful... for the Ryder ride... but I still... had fun...
[And that's a rare thing in the apocalypse.]
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Hnn... Good. Um -- I'm glad.
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I thought I head... movement... around... Did you...? I'm thinking of... going to look...
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Yeah... I guess I got -- pretty, um...loud. Sorry.
[She doesn't want him to leave her behind, but she recognizes that in comparison to him, tireless and able to move through hordes with ease, she's useless. She'd only make things worse, and she might have caused the problem to begin with. He'll be safer without her this time, now that there isn't a living human element in play.]
I -- think it was all from the -- upper floors. I don't know. It's hard to tell...
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No... I wanted to... do something fun... You shouldn't be... punished... for living...
[He refuses. He wants safety for Ryder and he knows this world is harsh. But if they can't live and have fun, what's the point?]
I should have... checked first... but... I will now... still don't... regret that... not one bit...
[He smiles at her.]
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Don't be dumb. We checked stuff -- out when we came here, just... The world kept going, too. Not just -- us, even if. Feels like it, sometimes. So, um... We can't always check -- every time. Over n' over. We'll go crazy.
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Suppose... Though... might be late... for crazy.
[He carries her up the stairs, not liking that the sounds get closer, but nevertheless heading for that room. Once there, she'll be set upon the bed.]
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[For all she knows, she's made Teo up as a defense mechanism against her loneliness. It would definitely explain some things, like what a dead guy's doing going around all hot and sweet. Mentally grumbling at herself, she jolts a little when Teo starts lowering her, clinging again like a cat avoiding water like she realizes that no, he is not dropping her. Jeez. Calm down. Like that's even the worst that could be happening...]
So... I guess you'll be going then, huh...
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She startles when he sets her down and he offers a soft apology. He pauses then, considering.]
Could stay... Close, quiet... safe... Might quiet... on their own... Or... could lead them out... Would you... rather...?
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That's the final push she needs to make her decision, releasing what lingering hold she'd had on him to instead bundle the sheet tighter around herself. Ryder sighs and lets the fatigue settle deeper.]
Nnno. You should check -- on them... Um. Maybe get them ready... I -- don't know if we should lead them -- out unless we can keep -- them out. Or, um... Find way to be safe and let them go free.
[Every Witch Way is supposed to be a safe place to rest for everyone. It'd be nice if the other undead could learn to take Teo's example, but they didn't have the awareness for that. They were basically infants, and like hell she's ready to be a parent -- especially to a gang of toddlers out to chew her legs off. She doubts Teo is either.]
Maybe tonight? The other -- survivors shouldn't be out then either. And we can work on -- barricading in the morning?
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Checking on the dead, letting them go free. He hadn't expected it from her. It wasn't exactly safe for her. But he realizes that it's from looking at him that she's trying out ill-advised kindness for the dead. His expression softens, looking touched, fond, and grateful.]
I'll gather... below... Find a room... on the first floor... Get them all... together... You rest...
[Minding the other survivors is smart too. Safer for them and safer for him.]
Tonight... lead into the city... you be... ready in case...
[In case any decide to trail back up to her hideout while he away. He'd be leaving her alone again, which he doesn't like, but despite bundling her up and carrying her up the stairs, he knows she's capable.]
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Ryder nods, switching to looking around their room instead of him, since all that would do is make her fret more by the second. Well, that and fluster the heck out of her, with that soft expression of his. Gosh and golly. She should make a new mental list of essentials, taking their new bounty into account. Shame that the wheels and rattle of its contents means that taking the whole cart with them isn't all that feasible.]
Yeah. I'll, um. I'll be quiet. [So they don't get distracted while he's parading them around... Ah, hm, she's not sure she likes the question that occurs to her, though she's pretty sure that's for the wrong reasons.] They're -- not gonna, um, like...smell me, or anything -- else, right?
[Not that she doesn't smell great by apocalypse standards, now! But it's weird to think about Teo, among the others, tracking her scent in an undead way. Experience stealthing around would tell her 'no', but she might be the only survivor that can get as definite an answer that there is, with him around.]
I just need to be -- quiet.
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It's just when he's prepared to let that be that and head out that she throws a curve ball. And that metaphorical curve ball is landing square in the middle of his face. He makes an uncertain noise, grimacing and looking away.]
Well... I mean... you're clean and... you're not bleeding... You'd be... behind the door... Not really... the best sense... or anything... I'm sure it's... fine...!
[He smiles, but, it looks far more like a wince. Sure, he can't promise, but how likely is it?]
It'll be... fine... quiet... that's all... just quiet... and it's safe...
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Just quiet! Being quiet is the only thing she has to worry about!]
Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I'll -- shut up now. Just need my, um --
[She leans to get a better look at where she's left her backpack, and more importantly, her book. Her hands make a gesture of a cover opening up.]
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Don't mind... when you talk...
[Just a small assurance. He's good with her talking when he isn't walking the dead past her door. He hopes he can avoid her door, on that note.
He needs no more muted explanation. He moves to grab her backpack and brings the whole thing to her.]
Weave good stories... while I'm away...
[He makes his way to the door and shuts it quietly behind him. Then he's off to find the dead, to take their hands one by one and guide them down like they're no more than lost souls.]
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Stories, hm... Her expression softens to something serene and fond as she leans back against the headboard and flips open to a random blank page. Time to see what her imagination has to offer them.]
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He finds a woman in the hall. It unsettles him that she'd wandered even this close, but like the man, he leads her down.
The one after that is entirely unrecognizable as anything but it corpse and that unsettles him in another way, but he takes that hand too. He finds a family where two of the three corpses have already gone still, the sort of scene he really hates. He whispers that he's sorry as he goes.
He checks and he checks until he's sure he's gathered just about all of them. There's one last room, barricaded from the outside. He works to carefully move each piece of furniture. He hears growls, then scraping. He imagines those fingers are worn down to the bone and he remembers quite sharply, the feeling of clawing at a door. It's a wonder his fingers aren't the same.
He should've been minding that memory, or similar memories much more, for then he wouldn't have been surprised when the dead leapt at him, jaws snapping. He lets out a cry, pushing the dead back, and it stops. It almost confused, as if it has the mind to wonder how something that's not food could've freed it. This one's going to be trouble, he thinks. He takes the extra steps to bind its hands and try and cover its mouth as well. Just in case. Down to the room it goes and then all those dead are barricaded in together. It won't hold forever, but it'll hold until tonight, so long as they're quiet.
With that done, he makes his way back up to Ryder's room.]
It's me...
[He hopes she hears his warning before he opens up the door.]
Everything... okay...?
no subject
It's the one rule she has for her most prized possession and she's breaking it. For him. Maybe it's starting to lose seat on its long-held throne. That's the power of friendship, baby.
'He has a letter I've never read. A letter I've never seen. It was with him when he woke up, and even though it's been ruined with blood and time, he keeps it safe with him. Inside his pocket is a link to the life he had before all this.
Oh. By the way, this is taking place at the end of the world -- not the location, because the world is spherical so that doesn't exist, and I hope there's enough written word and intelligent life that this fact survives, but I can't predict the future. Humanity's let me down before. Now they're all dead: in the ground, on the ground, walking, or inside. I was like that, too, until I met one of these walking dead guys who felt the name Teo was right, so that's who he is. Funny that a zombie's the best guy I've ever known, and the only friend I've ever had.
I didn't know him before, so I don't have a lot to share yet. There might never be more, since he says flashes of memories come to him in little pieces and feelings. What I do know is that he's generous and compassionate. He's shown me that much, along with silly little doodles I've taped to the inside cover of this book.
Other things I know:
- He's a Latino man in his twenties. He keeps himself covered up so others can't see he's undead. His left cheek is ripped off so you can see his teeth, so it would be pretty hard to argue against any accusation.
- His eyes are dull and sensitive to light, so he wears goggles.
- His hair is long. It was probably black or one of those darkest browns, but it's gone more gray.
- His entire self is like someone dialed down the saturation level. His personality is still vibrant, even if he has to wheeze pieces of it out slowly, bit by bit, with lungs that don't work right anymore. As little as I've seen so far, I can make the judgment that his body is undeniably dead.
- He can cook. He made me vegetarian sloppy joe today, or at least the apocalypse version.
- He likes animals. They're not so fond of him now, what with the whole zombie thing.
- He dresses like a punk. I don't know enough about the style or music to explain the patches that are sewn onto his clothes, but maybe he can tell me something. Stay tuned, reader.
- He likes romance novels. Pretty sure he's bisexual.
- On a related note, he mentioned cooking breakfast for partners after spending the night with them, but in various places. He remembers the electric buzzing sound that certain lights make.
- He remembers probably sleeping in cars, like I sometimes do now for safety, but back when he was alive.
- He's been shot before. His blood now is black. Zombies are able to mostly ignore pain because they always have a more prominent focus. For the rest, it's just hunger. He has hunger and the whims of his heart.'
Ryder pauses and listens with a frown. Even without the sound of people or television, lights or air conditioning...it was hard to make out all the noises. Damn walls, protecting her. Was that something, or her imagination? Was it him?
...After a straight minute of straining to hear something that would pierce the calm, she returns to her secret notes.
'- He cares about me. He'll hold me even though he's scared of infecting me. If I get infected, I probably won't be the same as him. He wouldn't be able to hold me anymore. He doesn't want to lose me.
- I care about him. I don't want to lose him.
- This isn't enough. I want to know more.'
She adds their story so far, omitting a lot of the details. There's so many parts scribbled out from a misspelling or plain embarrassment. As much as she wants a record of his existence for the world -- his importance as a person and not a medical marvel or hiccup of fate -- she doesn't...want to share him. She only just got him.
The hallway has a muffled thump to it of steps approaching, so she quickly stashes her pen away and snaps her book shut.]
Hey. All clear over here with me and Chancellor -- [Ah. Teo enters her view and her voice falters shamefully.] -- Bounce. Um. You? I -- thought I might have heard...
[Something?]
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He doesn't know. He jokes knows the sound of her voice, of rustling movement, and the way she falters when he comes into view. He's glad to know her well enough that he doesn't attribute it to his own presence-- at least in the sense of being unwanted. It makes him look apologetic, at least up until she turns a question on him.
It's his turn to falter. He wants to say he's fine, but if she heard something... He lets out a rueful breath of a laugh and ducks his head.]
Last one... spooked me... [Which seems ridiculous since he's also undead, but--] Expected something... living... pounced... Fine of course... but...
[He pushes back a bit of hair and then goes to take a seat on the edge of the bed. He shrugs.]
Never forgot... how I died... Irony...
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Was that how, um... Your face?
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She gives him a strange look and it makes his head tilt. Perhaps he shouldn't have said that. Maybe that's too morbid, breaking some rule or other he hadn't noticed. But then she's at his side, leaning on him and he leans just the slightest bit back, resting his head on hers. He feels some of his tension unwind for a second before that question. It makes his breath catch, but his words are calm.]
No... that was later... [He should be grateful for that. And yet.] It's not clear... it's... probably not different... than anyone's story... I remember... patches... something caught... my ankle... tried to bite... grazed... but I got away... just to be caught... too scared... too scared...
[And fear led to carelessness and carelessness... well.]
...fell on me... tried to grasp... to claw... [He reaches up, his fingers grazing his throat, where the gaiter covers most of the scratches.] tried to bite... stupid... blocked with... my arm...
[His eyes close. He sighs. There's not much more he needs to say there. He was bit. It was over.]
Found some... shed... can't recall... bleeding everywhere... hurt... I-I wished... I wasn't alone... wished... I'd lived... wasted chance... Fever was fast... It was all... too fast... too much...
[So much for being her hero. He'd gone out cowardly.]
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